


after image

by elithewho



Category: The Two Faces of January (2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Multi, Power Dynamics, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithewho/pseuds/elithewho
Summary: He could see the future in her snowy shoulder as she turned away from him, buried her face in the pillow. She would keep turning away from him until he lost her forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Franzeska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franzeska/gifts).



> I wanna hunt like David,  
> I wanna kill me a giant man,  
> I wanna slay my demons,  
> But I got lots of them, I got lots of them.
> 
> "David," Noah Gundersen
> 
> thanks to my beta, she knows who she is ;D

Deep down, Chester knew what Colette really wanted. He might have the money and glamourous lifestyle, but Rydal was young and charming and soft as a day-old colt. 

He had that same eager innocence too: big, dewy brown eyes, lips parted like he was constantly begging for a taste of something sweet, smooth tan skin sprinkled with the finest freckles. It was disgusting how easily American heiresses fell for his shtick, but Chester couldn’t deny his appeal. Those floppy strands of hair on his forehead make him look so pure that innocent young women got all wet for him and couldn’t see how eager he was to pocket their cash and jewelry. He was like a fawn nudging his mother for a cuddle and Colette had moon eyes for him, even if she tried to hide it.

Chester’s first instinct, of course, was near-blinding jealousy. He entertained casual daydreams about smashing that pretty face against the wall, splitting open that tender mouth and bruising his perfect skin. Rydal may be short, but he didn’t have that skinny, underfed look that so many young men often had. He was thick, compact, sturdy. It made the fragility of his innocent pretense all the more striking. 

“You’re drunk,” Colette informed him one night.

That was obvious enough, but she wanted him to know how disappointed she was. There was a small crease between her brows and her skin was very pale in the dim light. 

“If you were looking for something in particular, why don’t you go down the hall?” He only said it to wound her, because he was afraid that she’d really do it. He could see the future in her snowy shoulder as she turned away from him, buried her face in the pillow. She would keep turning away from him until he lost her forever.

Colette stayed frosty with him for a few days after that remark. But the idea of softening to her only made him panic more. He could imagine it all too clearly: Colette tapping on Rydal’s door and he would answer, hair tousled, chest bare, maybe half-hard from touching himself, thinking of her. She would fall into his arms and that would be it. He could imagine how they’d writhe together, how Rydal would touch her and she would touch him. Chester had to adjust himself under the small café table, his prick stiffening at the mental image.

That night, Colette fluffed the sagging hotel pillows on their bed, mouth a hard line of resentment. Chester had warmed himself with three whiskeys but he could still feel his hands and the rest of his body and he wanted his wife. He touched her shoulder and she shrugged his hand off.

“Come on, Colette,” he murmured and she glared at him.

Her chilliness got to him and he lashed out. He couldn’t help it.

“You really should go and fuck him, then,” he spat, suddenly furious. “Since you won’t even touch me.”

She looked at him, her blue eyes sparkling. Her lips twitched and then she turned away. “You can’t let it go, can you?”

She stood up and walked out. Chester stared at the door closing slowly after her. He could still hear her footfalls, getting fainter, bare feet on the rustic clay floor. She was only wearing her nightie. 

Chester stayed in their room, stewing, for what felt like hours. It couldn’t have been longer than fifteen minutes and by the time he wrenched open the door to follow her, he was livid. The halls were dark and empty, lit by muted moonlight.

At Rydal’s door, Chester stopped to listen. With his hand on the doorknob, all he could hear was his own pounding heartbeat resounding in his ears. Inside, Chester’s imagination had already conjured the most perverse scene, but all he saw was Colette sitting on Rydal’s bed, not touching him, nightie still on. Rydal was wearing a white undershirt and boxer shorts.

Colette did not look surprised to see him. Rydal, however, reacted with expected fear, leaping up, hands held with the palms facing out, like he was trying to calm a spooked horse. “Hey, Chester, it’s not what it looks like…”

He was babbling, trying to placate what he saw of Chester’s rage, but Chester was beyond calm conversation. He grabbed Rydal by the neck and squeezed.

“Chester, stop!” he heard Colette scream.

One of Rydal’s soft hands went to Chester’s forearm, trying to pry himself free. He was soft all over, Chester noted, eyes finding his shoulders and his thighs. Chester felt haggard in comparison, wrinkled and wretched. But he looked at Rydal and then at Colette, all smooth and pink and golden and he wanted to _possess._

He relaxed his hand, but kept it curled around Rydal’s throat. The young man’s eyes were still wide, fearful, and he looked even more like a frightened deer, staring down the shotgun that had blasted away its mother. He swallowed thickly and Chester felt the movement in his hand.

“You want to fuck her?” he said, as calmly as he could.

Rydal didn’t answer, his eyes flickering around the room like he was searching for an escape route. Chester let go of his throat and curled his hand around the back of his neck instead, the gesture almost fond now, almost fatherly.

“You can fuck her,” he said, and Rydal looked at him in alarm. “I know she wants you to.”

He looked over at Colette. Her lips were parted, the strap of her little shell pink nightie falling down one shoulder. She seemed to be thinking hard, worrying her lip with small white teeth. If she found the idea repugnant, surely she wouldn’t look so intrigued. Chester pulled Rydal closer, sliding his hand over his broad shoulder, giving his body a friendly shake.

“So, you fuck her,” he said, like they were closing a business deal. “And I’ll watch.”

Colette held out her hand, eyes hooded, expression darkening. If that wasn’t a clear indication, he didn’t know what was.

Rydal was still frozen, like a frightened rabbit corned by a predator. Chester pushed him forward by the shoulders, right into Colette’s waiting arms.

“Wait – “ Rydal managed to choke out, his voice cracking once he finally found it.

“Why wait?” Colette said innocently, pulling him onto the bed. 

She spread her knees and Rydal fell between them. Chester followed close behind. Perhaps he had originally intended to stay back, but the sight of Rydal’s thick backside framed by Colette’s pale legs was too distracting. Colette shimmied up the bed, toward the headboard, and Chester helped Rydal follow her. Chester climbed on the bed behind them, settling his knees between Rydal’s legs, effectively trapping him. Colette kissed him, her hands pushing into his boyishly disheveled hair. Chester wrapped his fingers around Rydal’s waist, feeling the heat of his skin. He heard the catch in his breathing, the little moan he tried to hide as Colette deepened the kiss, fingers tightening their grip in his hair. Chester pushed up the fabric of Rydal’s shirt, feeling all that young skin underneath. His fingers found the edge of his boxers, the swell of his ass. Rydal could not suppress the sounds he was making, the soft, breathy moans and little whines as Chester touched him carefully and Colette nibbled his neck. 

“Is this what you imagined?” Chester muttered, not sure who he was addressing.

Rydal apparently couldn’t speak, but Colette could answer easily.

“It’s much better,” she said, and Chester squeezed Rydal’s ass hard enough to make him gasp.

With all the distractions of Chester touching him and Colette beneath him, Rydal could not seem to do anything but prop himself up on his elbows, arms trembling, moaning weakly as Colette snagged his ear between her teeth.

“Personally I expected better from you, Rydal,” Chester said softly, easing down the elastic band of his boxers over those plump cheeks. “Haven’t you seduced every wealthy young tourist in Greece?”

Rydal quivered and Chester wished he could see his face, how pink his cheeks were, his wet mouth hanging open as he moaned. He was so tender, _so ripe_ , that Chester couldn’t resist slipping a finger between his cheeks, dragging rough against his hole.

The effect was immediate: Rydal's sharp gasp, almost a yelp of surprise, and Colette’s giggle at his reaction. Chester rubbed his hole again, fingers prodding at the tight ring of muscle but not breaching it. Rydal moaned, the sound guttural, like it was torn from him. Chester watched Colette’s hand slide down the front of Rydal’s body, disappearing below the waist. Chester knew when her hand wrapped around his prick because his breathing stuttered and his hips rocked into her. Chester squeezed Rydal’s ass, parting his cheeks so he could see more, rub a tight circle around his twitching hole. 

“Let him fuck you, honey,” Chester said, voice low and gravelly.

He watched Colette adjust herself, spread her thighs wider as she drew Rydal closer. Chester recognized that move, the way she’d rub the head of his cock against her slick cunt before letting him in. He had always loved when she did it and now it made his cock throb in his pajama bottoms, hearing Rydal’s shuddered gasp in reaction to the same move. Chester felt the roll of his hips when he finally pushed inside Colette and he needed to squeeze his own cock through the fabric, watching the look of pleasure wash over Colette’s face and Rydal’s shoulders shake just barely.

Reluctantly, Chester let go of Rydal’s ass and watched him buck one, two times, arms trembling. Chester detected a slight tremor in his own hands as he fumbled at the bedside cabinet, rifling through the contents of the drawer. After a moment he found just what he needed: a bottle of baby oil.

Maybe if Rydal could see what he had found, he would have stopped for a moment, but he was too immersed in fucking Colette. But Colette saw, and she smirked. 

Chester positioned himself between Rydal’s thighs again, pushing his briefs further down those thick legs as he fucked his wife, ass clenching every stroke. Chester slicked up his fingers with oil and slipped them in, startling Rydal enough to make him squeal. But Colette held him tight by the back of his neck, her thighs bracing his hips. 

“Shh, it’s OK,” she whispered, tone soft and calming.

Rydal’s breathing was harsh and uneven as Chester parted his cheeks again, slathered the oil over his hole and pushed two fingers in. Rydal tensed up even more, his ass a hot, smooth vise. Chester chuckled, barely giving him time to adjust as he fucked him deeper, pushing in up to the knuckle with the help of the oil. Rydal was panting now and the movement of his hips had stopped.

“Rydal,” Chester said calmly, palming his ass as he eased his fingers out and then screwed them back in. “Don’t stop now.”

Rydal’s groan was like real pain. His breathing was tight, panicked almost as he worked his hips again, Colette helping only barely to rock back into him. Rydal collapsed, unable to support his upper body on shivering arms. His hand found Colette’s hip, pushing up beneath her silken nightie.

It was better than Chester had imagined, the feel of Rydal’s tight ass squeezing his fingers, the blissful look on Colette’s face, the way Rydal groaned and shuddered when Chester found his prostate and rubbed against it. It was too easy, like winding up a toy soldier to march across the floor. Rydal reacted like a teenage bride on her wedding night, twitching and writhing and whining like he couldn’t get enough but wanted to pull away at the same time.

Rydal’s thrusts were picking up speed and Chester was getting impatient. His fingers slipped out of Rydal’s ass and he pushed down his pajama bottoms, fisting his cock with a handful of baby oil. He grunted, watching Colette’s face twist in pleasure. From the sounds she was making, he knew she was close. He spread Rydal’s ass cheeks with slippery fingers and rubbed his cock head against his greased up hole, incidentally the same trick Colette had pulled. Rydal choked but Chester thought he really shouldn’t be surprised by the feel of his blunt cock pushing in. What did he expect?

Still, Rydal tried to fight him, his hips twisting, his ass clenching as Chester fucked him deeper. With Rydal deep inside Colette, his hips still as he panted and Chester squeezed his full ass, plumped up by his own hips flush against them. They stayed like that for a long moment, all three of them, connected. Only Rydal made a sound, little pathetic whimpers. 

“Come on,” Colette finally said firmly, pulling at Rydal’s sweaty hair. “Fuck me.”

Her crudeness must have spurred him on, because his hips moved again. So he fucked her, at the same time fucking himself on Chester’s cock. Chester grinned, gripping Rydal’s hips with bruising strength. They established a crude rhythm, Chester doing most of the work to fuck Rydal hard enough to propel him forward into Colette. She moaned softly, nails digging into the soft skin of Rydal’s back. Chester rubbed her knee gently, his other hand still holding Rydal in place as he fucked him. Rydal was grunting, his moaned high-pitched and almost pained. Chester watched Colette’s face, making sure to time his thrusts to her reactions, speeding up just when her mouth fell open and she arched her back as she came, shuddering beneath them.

With Colette taken care of, going boneless with pleasure, Chester focused on Rydal, who was still a twitching mess. He fucked him even harder, knowing he was still buried in Colette’s warm cunt. Chester’s hand slid up Rydal’s sweat-slicked back, tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. With this new leverage, tugging Rydal’s neck back to bare his throat, Chester pounded him with a quick succession of brutal thrusts and he felt his ass tighten, the sound he made like a strangled scream and Colette’s soft gasp told him Rydal was coming inside her.

Rydal could only scream a stuttered curse, going limp beneath him and Colette was shimmying away, perhaps from too much stimulation. But Chester wasn’t done. Rydal gripped the bedsheets, whimpering softly with every one of Chester’s thrusts. Chester looked up, caught Colette’s eye glinting in the glow of moonlight through the window and then he was coming, unloading in Rydal’s twitching ass as the younger man writhed beneath him.

Chester pulled out, forearms shaking from the power of his orgasm. Rydal lay very still, his briefs still bunched around his knees, undershirt pushed up under his armpits. Colette was lounging coquettishly, managing to look elegant and demure even in this circumstance. Chester leaned over Rydal’s prone body to kiss her and she responded with more passion than he had felt from her in months. He touched her cheek fondly with his knuckles and then flopped down beside Rydal, who hadn’t moved.

“Budge up,” he said sharply, giving his ass a hard slap.

Rydal twitched, tried to move, groaned in pain. Chester took pity on him and helped him turn over, manhandling him into the perfect position to be squished between them. Rydal had a slightly dazed expression as Colette settled into his arms, pulling him close enough so she could wrap her hand around Chester’s bicep.

This was not even close to resembling what Chester had imagined when he made his way to Rydal’s room that night, but he’d take it.


End file.
